


A Sure Sign of an Insane Mind

by berrymascarpone



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Birthday Parties, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Impersonation, but the fun kind of impersonation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrymascarpone/pseuds/berrymascarpone
Summary: “Oh my god,” he whispered, “You’re serious. Kaitou KID, the internationally wanted jewelry thief, who steals priceless gems from top-security locations and avoids the police on a regular basis, is resorting to making appearances at children’s birthday parties to pay his bills.”“Hey,” Kaitou KID huffed in mock-offense, “I do adult birthday parties too.”





	A Sure Sign of an Insane Mind

Children’s birthday parties, Conan realized, were much less fun if you were not the one getting high on sugar, running around the garden and talking at speeds high enough to get whiplash. He hoped that in his true childhood he had never been as loud as Genta, at least, who was yelling for seconds—no thirds—of the birthday cake. Ayumi’s giggling had reached near supersonic levels, and Mitsuhiko’s excitement over some cartoon or another threatened to scramble his brain if he had to listen to one more minute of it. Somehow Haibara seemed to be enjoying herself in her usual low-key way, protected by the aura of aloofness that she seemed to emanate like a sedative gas. He spent a moment to ponder, half respect and half envy, at her ability to endure such chaos, while he hid in the corner behind some suitably thorny rosebushes just to get a moment of peace.

“Conan, Conan!” Mitsuhiko said, peering around the English Roses, “What’re you doing back here? You’ll miss the show!”

Conan sighed, but got up from where he was crouched, shaking the feeling back into his legs. “I thought I saw a cool bug,” he chirped, saccharine as corn syrup, appealing to Mitsuhiko’s baser nature, “But it was nothing.” He added hastily, seeing the shine in his friend’s eyes, the universal instinct of all small boys to catch chitinous, crawling things.

“Oh” Mitsuhiko’s eyes went back to normal, then brightened again as he grabbed Conan’s wrist, “Hurry up then, they’re about to start without us!”

Conan allowed himself to be dragged back out into the crowd of screaming children, with the same solemnity of a prisoner headed to his own execution. All around, the screams of children echoed. Not actually that far off from his normal day, he reflected, though hopefully they were screams of joy, not because they found a body. Hopefully. Please don’t be a body.

Mitsuhiko had mentioned a show. He faintly remembered Ayumi saying something about her mom hiring a performer of some sort, and he had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach again, like a thousand little voices screaming. Please, he prayed to any gods that might be listening, please don’t be a clown. He wouldn’t survive the afternoon.

The children had already swarmed around what Conan presumed was the entertainer. They didn’t sound terrified, which was a good sign. Perhaps it was one of those people who dressed up like super heroes, with some contrived disaster or other. He almost had hope that the afternoon would be a quick and painless, if not entertaining. That was, until he saw the performer.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” the voice projected easily over the crowd of shrilly cheering children. “I give you the one, the only…”

A puff of white smoke, and suddenly the sound of flapping wings filled the air. A flock of doves flew out of a white top hat and over the heads of the children, scattering confetti like colorful, plastic droppings. The swirl of a white cloak vanished the smoke as easily as if it hadn’t been there (Water vapor, easily dispersed with an absorbent fabric, the logical part of Conan’s brain said. The illogical part began to scream internally.) The cloak settled on white-suited shoulders. White-gloved hands placed the top hat onto a head of messy hair, from underneath which bright, mischievous eyes peeked out. One of the eyes was covered in a monocle.

“Kaitou KID!” the magician said, a crescendo of sound. He had to have a loudspeaker somewhere, a mic hidden under his collar perhaps. Party crackers erupted from his sleeves. The children cheered. Conan fought the urge to run away as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

“It’s KID!” Mitsuhiko gasped, his voice full of shock and…delight? Annoyance prickled like an uncomfortable sweater. Weren’t the Detective Boys supposed to hate KID and his ilk? Chase thieves with the long arm of the law?

“A good impersonation,” Haibara said, slipping over to them as soundlessly as a smug cat over carpet. She glanced over at Conan out of the corner of her eye, something like a smile but way more sadistic dancing over her lips, “I’m sure this will a be very fun show. Right Edogawa-kun?”

“This is awesome!” Mitsuhiko exclaimed, his grip still on Conan’s wrist like an inevitable string of fate, leading him to his doom, “Let’s go get a closer look!”

“Have fun, Edogawa-kun,” Haibara said, ignoring Conan’s pleading look as he was mercilessly dragged away through the crowd of screaming children. He made a mental note to get back at her somehow, the traitor.

“Ah, Conan-kun” Ayumi exclaimed as he found himself at the front of the crowd, “Look, it’s Kaitou KID!” She pushed him forward, and he found himself staring at the impersonator, “KID-san, this is Conan-kun. He’s part of our Detective Boys Club!”

“We solve mysteries!” Genta added.

“Oh?” the impersonator said, and there was something in his voice that gave Conan pause. Was it surprise, or amusement, or fear? He took another look. The blue shirt and red tie were accurate enough, but the suit was ill-tailored, as if he had borrowed it from someone a size too large, and the band on the top hat was just a bit too wide. The monocle had no lens, and through it he could see—strikingly familiar blue eyes.

“The KID-killer-kun huh? What a surprise!” the impersonator put a hand over his chest, recoiling back in exaggerated shock, “Are you here to put me behind bars?” he waved his hands, and suddenly there was a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, and those looked real enough (though, he noticed, much too loose to be effective).

“Kyaa!” Ayumi screamed, in unbridled delight, “Conan-kun, get him!” and she gave him a push, causing him to stumble forward.

“Ah-ah,” the impersonator jumped back, “The mighty KID-sama will never be caught by the likes of you!” he leaped over a table, sailing perfectly over the cutlery and drinks, which shook just the smallest amount as he landed on top, to the oohs and aahs of the crowd. A quick movement of his wrists, and the handcuffs were off, spinning casually around his index finger.

“You’ll never get away!” Mitsuhiko cried, rushing forward, caught up in the façade. There was a loud cry, primal and terrifying, the sound of a whole party of small children ready for a chase. Conan braced himself for the stampede of elementary-school kids suddenly hell-bent on catching Kaitou KID.

“Wait, wait!” Kaitou KID held out his hands, the universal sign of surrender, “A truce! I call a truce!”

That gave the kids pause, and Kaitou KID winked, “What do you say, birthday-girl? You don’t turn me in to the police, and I’ll give you a taste of my newest magic trick?”

Though he addressed Ayumi, Conan realized, his gaze was directed towards Conan himself. There was a glint in there, a secret exchanged. Something seemed to pass between them, unspoken, like an underwater current beneath the childish exterior. Conan purposely relaxed his shoulders, and watched the impersonator (though the worm of doubt had already begun to chew through his mind) do the same.

“Agreed!” Ayumi shouted happily, and her cheer was echoed by the crowd of children.

Kaitou KID gave a bow, tipping his hat at just the right angle to spark a memory in Conan’s mind. A blue rose appeared in his hand, and he flourished it in front of Ayumi’s face. “Let this be a sign of our truce, birthday-girl.” Ayumi squealed in delight, along with most of the children present.

“Hey, hey, can you magic me a bowl of eel-rice?” Genta shouted.

Even Conan had to laugh at the look of bewilderment on KID’s face.

* * *

Conan had to admit that, though he had guessed most of the mechanisms behind the magic tricks seen today, there were one or two that gave him pause. Most notably, how he had made the birthday cake, a three-tiered monstrosity of pink icing and piped buttercream sakura blossoms, appear from underneath his top hat. And at the end of the day, Ayumi’s wide smile, the keen interest Mitsuhiko had in the tricks, and the way Genta’s face had lit up when the KID had indeed produced a bowl of eel-over-rice, made it worth all the shouting and chaos that came with children’s birthday parties. And after cake was eaten, presents were opened, and magic was eventually exhausted, Conan felt…content. No one had been murdered. He had some cake, coffee flavored, courtesy of the KID, who seemed to sense his distaste for the pure injection of sugar and cream that was the actual birthday cake.

“Had fun?” Haibara asked, looking as imperturbable as ever, though he was sure she’d been up there getting her notebook signed by ‘Kaitou KID’ with the rest of the children.

“Perhaps,” he said. He wasn’t quite sure himself, though at least no one had died and he still had all of his fingers and most of his hair, save the bit that got pecked out by a particularly ornery dove. He would count today as a win.

“Hm,” Haibara raised an eyebrow, just the right amount of amusement mixed with judgment, “Well, I’m glad you didn’t sulk in your bush all day.”

“I wasn’t sulking in a bush,” he muttered, disregarding the fact that he had, indeed, been sulking in a bush.

“Lighten up a bit,” she sniffed, “You never know how many more birthdays we’ll be able to celebrate with them.”

He frowned. It was true, if he ever got the antidote and his teenage body back, he wouldn’t be Conan anymore, wouldn’t be able to play soccer with the Detective Boys in the park, catch beetles and fireflies with Mitsuhiko in the summer, eat eel-over-rice and with Genta, cook curry over a campfire with Ayumi, or solve the small and carefree mysteries of elementary school children. Something almost like regret filled him at the thought of losing that.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, turning away to hide his expression from her too-knowing eyes, “There’s no law against going to children’s birthday parties.”

“Except for the fact you’ll look like a creep,” Haibara snickered.

“Shut up, if anything, you’re a year older so you should be the creep.”

“I’m far too cute to be creepy.”

“Ha! You’re the creepiest of all, and we both know that.”

Something at the edge of the exhausted pile of children caught his eye. A figure in white slinking away like a guilty dog, behind the rose bushes. He looked over at Haibara, apology already on his lips, but she rolled her eyes and made a shooing gesture with her hands.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, gratefully, and took off after the fleeing magician.

* * *

“Sneaking away so early?” Conan said, and watched amused as the figure of the Kaitou KID impersonator jumped a whole foot in the air, like a cat that had just stepped on a live wire.

“Ah, Edogawa-kun!” the teenager turned around, smiling confidently, a little bit patronizing too, just like an older boy talking to a younger brother, “Did you want another magic trick? I’ll have to apologize, I’m quite busy today—”

“Stop pretending, we both know you’re the real—mmph”

“Shh,” Kaitou KID—the real Kaitou KID he was sure now—hissed as he pressed a hand was over Conan’s mouth, glancing around for witnesses.

Conan rolled his eyes, prying the gloved hand off his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in or anything. You haven’t technically done anything illegal today. I just want to know—why?”

“Why what? Impersonate Kaitou KID?” KID said, a quirk to the corner of his mouth.

Conan nodded. It was a stupid, reckless thing to do, and for what, making a child happy for her birthday? Though he was sure Ayumi-chan’s smile had the power to melt glaciers, he was also pretty sure Kaito KID wasn’t that altruistic.

“Well,” Kaitou KID’s eyes slid to the side, another slip of his mask of confidence, “If, theoretically I were the real Kaitou KID, I’m sure I have my reasons.”

“Is it some kind of reconnaissance?” Conan asked, eyes narrowed, then answered his own question, “No, there hasn’t been any news of new gems being brought into the country lately. And Ayumi’s parents have nothing to do with that sort of thing.” He pondered further, and drew up a blank, “Surely you’re not doing it for the money?”

There was a long pause.

“Seriously?”

“Look, tantei-kun, if _theoretically_ I were Kaitou KID, I might say that there’s a lot of overhead in planning such amazing heists. Theoretically of course, because I’m not planning any. But if I were, and if I didn’t have some tremendously wealthy parents or inheritance to support my heists, then theoretically I would need some sort of job to cover the costs. Hang-gliders aren’t cheap you know. Especially if someone keeps wrecking them with a definitely-not-standard-issue soccer ball. And it’s not like I can put out any official merchandise.”

Conan paused for a long moment, trying to process what he was hearing.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, “You’re serious. Kaitou KID, the internationally wanted jewelry thief, who steals priceless gems from top-security locations and avoids the police on a regular basis, is resorting to making appearances at children’s birthday parties to pay his bills.”

“Hey,” Kaitou KID huffed in mock-offense, “I do adult birthday parties too.” At Conan’s incredulous look, he shrugged, “You’d be surprised how many adult KID fans also want their idol to be present for their birthday. The cake there is usually better too.”

Conan’s mind was running on over-drive. There must be something wrong with the world. Yes, there were fans. Hordes and hordes of rabid fans, but to think that he would have the audacity to actually dress up as himself and willingly confront them. “You’re insane.” He said dully. He really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“And don’t get me started on the ‘adult’ adult parties,” KID said with a long-suffering sigh.

“What?” Conan was sure his ears would start to smoke soon, with all the processing he was doing. KID opened his mouth with a Cheshire grin, and he reconsidered his last words.

“Wait, no. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me, or I’ll have to tranquilize you right now.”

“Just a joke, tantei-kun,” KID said, the hint of a phantom snicker in his voice, “But what a surprise to see you at a birthday party. I pegged you more as a mystery book-club type of kid.”

Conan glared. It wasn’t like he knew there would be a KID impersonator at the party. Or that the impersonator would be not-actually-an-impersonator.

The thief’s grin widened, “Say, how many photos do you think they took?”

Conan’s face went pale, sudden as an aneurysm. He remembered suddenly that the parents had been taking photos. Dr. Agasa had been taking photos. Of the children and Kaitou KID. Of him and Kaitou KID. Holding hands because Ayumi insisted.

“I wonder,” KID said, teasing. He held up a photograph between two fingers. “How the papers would like a photo of their KID-killer-kun fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Don’t you dare!” Conan lunged.

“Aww, is tantei-kun camera shy?” KID laughed, dancing out of the way, “Does tantei-kun not want to be seen with me? How mean.”

That was it. Conan dropped a hand down to the soccer ball release mechanism on his belt. He was going to wipe that smile off the damn thief’s face, lack of illegal activity or not. And he was going to burn all the photos.

“Tantei-kun? What are you—wait a minute—Ack!”

* * *

Aoko looked up from spooning curry onto two plates at the sound of the front door opening. “Welcome back, Bakaito!” she yelled.

Instead of the expected response, she heard a thump that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor, and a groan from the hallway. She paused, and gently set down the bowl. She kept the ladle, just in case.

“Kaito?” she asked, stepping carefully in the hall.

At the other end, flopped face-down on the floor like a leopard seal tanning in the sun, was a familiar white-clad form. Kaito, wearing the suit he borrowed from her father and his hastily assembled outfit, gave another pitiful groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, hands on her hips, previous worry dissipating. He made an unintelligible sound, that she, using her ample experience with Kaito's unintelligible sounds, interpreted as 'something super embarrassing happened and I don't want to talk about it' with a bit of 'I'm hungry please feed'.

Serves you right for going out dressed like that obnoxious criminal, she didn’t say. “How was the birthday party?”

“Remind me to never do that again.” He looked up, at her, pitiful eyes staring up from beneath the white top hat. There was a bright red mark on one cheek, as if he had rubbed it on sandpaper at high speeds. And, for some reason, there were the faint outlines of hexagons, like the pattern on a soccer ball.

She gasped, “What happened to your face?”

Kaito gave another groan, like the dying honk of a goose, and let his face fall back onto the floor, as if trying to bury himself in it.

“Kids,” he said, “are insane.”


End file.
